


You Move, I Move

by XYDamianKane



Series: Kinktober 2019 [25]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Blindfolds, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dry Humping, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Size Difference, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 11:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21178994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XYDamianKane/pseuds/XYDamianKane
Summary: Dick focuses on his hearing, and it’s awfully quiet, except for Bruce breathing on top of him, so close. He’s big and heavy and warm, and Dick did always like to sleep with lots of blankets, so the heat and weight are almost comforting.Besides, the way Dick’s privates rub against the mat feels really good, so he’s not going to be the one to cry uncle.





	You Move, I Move

Day 25: Body Swap | Tickling | Size Queen | **Sensory Deprivation**

* * *

“Any of your senses can be taken from you at any time. You can’t let that slow you down,” Bruce growls, fully committed to the Batman voice, even during training.

Dick wrinkles up his nose under the blindfold. He’s kind of dizzy without his vision to orient him. At least he knows he’s good at falling, he’s been practicing forever.

He braces, balancing on the balls of his feet, and guards his face like Bruce has taught him.

Bruce flips and pins him almost immediately.

“Focus on what you hear, Dick. Focus on my footsteps, how they fall.”

Bruce walks away, about ten paces away, and tries again.

Dick can tell Bruce is advancing more loudly, making sure his sneakers sound against the mat to make things easier for Dick. For whatever reason, it makes him angry, and he tries to duck when he hears the _ whoosh _ of Bruce’s fist sail through the air near his head.

He can’t contain a frustrated whine when Bruce takes him down, flipping him backwards over his knee this time, and pins him again.

“Let’s try again.”

Dick is able to block two kicks and a few blows, but it isn’t long before Bruce is on top of him again.

He has Dick’s wrists pinned in one big hand and he's started pushing his hips into Dick’s butt.

Dick bites his lip. He’s not sure what Bruce is doing, but it sure feels weird.

“That hurts--” Bruce shifts his weight so he’s not pinning Dick’s wrists as painfully. 

“Thanks,” and Dick isn’t sure how to finish the sentence, so he wiggles for emphasis.

Bruce hasn't kept him pinned this long before. He keeps moving against Dick in circles, and Dick knows they’re not _really_ sparring any more, but isn’t sure what to call this.

Dick focuses on his hearing, and it’s awfully quiet, except for Bruce breathing on top of him, so close. He’s big and heavy and warm, and Dick did always like to sleep with lots of blankets, so the heat and weight and darkness are almost comforting.

Besides, the way Dick’s privates rub against the mat feels _ really _ good, so he’s not going cry uncle.

Bruce seems to realize he’s not going to move and lets go of his hands.

Dick pushes his butt back a little, like they’re dancing together, and Bruce huffs out a breath that sounds kind of pleased.

The Batman costume is kind of rough against the bare skin of his thighs, but Dick can’t make himself stop or slow down and doesn’t know _ why_. The thought of not being able to stop is exciting too, so he ruts down into the mat and it feels _ overwhelmingly _ good. 

Bruce kind of sits up and grabs Dicks butt and pulls aside the leotard.

He wishes he could see what Bruce was doing, but he feels what must be Bruce’s--Bruce’s privates rub back and forth over his butt. 

“What are you doing?”

Bruce shushes him. “Dick, you’re doing so well, just hold on for me--” and Dick hears a rhythmic, slick kind of sound before something hot splashes onto his butt.

Bruce gets off of him, pushes Dick’s legs apart, and kneels between them. He guides Dick back into a rhythm, pushing him back and forth with his big hands holding Dick's hips.

Dick can smell their sweat--they must have been sparring for a while now--and it makes his hips move faster. Rubbing himself on the mat feels so right, and he feels _ too _ good.

“I--I can’t--” Dick says before something wonderful hits him like a train. It feels like he’s been struck by lightning, but _so_ _good_.

The inside of his leotard is wet, like Dick’s had an accident, and Bruce lifts his hand and pushes his hand under Dick’s privates, as if he knows to check.

“Bruce--I’m so sorry, I didn’t know--”, Dick stammers, turning his head blindly, not sure where to look to address him.

Bruce shushes him _ again_. “You’re OK, Dick. You did well. That’s enough training for today, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bruce unties the blindfold and all Dick can see is the grey of the mat. His eyes adjust, and the darkness of the cave seems light by comparison. 

He breathes in, breathes out, and pushes himself back up.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this stretching the prompt? Maybe. Did I write this inebriated? 100%.
> 
> I feel like I've written sensory deprivation into so many of these other prompts that this one doesn't fit as well? IDK.


End file.
